The Valentine Files
by Z.A.G
Summary: AU"Finds Lost People, items, and trinkets. Knowledgeable of the Occult, the Paranormal, Supernatural, Monsters, Ghosts, and Demons. Private Investigator: Vincent Valentine...Is this a joke? Or do you honestly do this kind of stuff?" Wine colored eyes drifted off the card to stare for a moment longer at the man behind the desk. "…Most people tell me I don't have a sense of humor."
1. A New Case

A/N: So, after reading up on one of the possible character designs of Vincent Valentine, I was intrigued to learn that he almost a private investigator that specialized in paranormal cases but always found them to be fake in the end. I decided to take that small snippet and run with it. Obviously this story is AU.

 _Chapter One: A New Case_

In was a shabby little office tucked harmless in the slums of Sector Eight in Midgar. Above the world of Sector Eight Slums sat Loveless Avenue – a popular location amongst tourist visiting the technological city. Fine dining was available before catching a run of Loveless performed by some of the world's most stellar actors. The avenue was known as an attractive spot for a night of romance amongst the populace. Such an atmosphere did _not_ find itself in the slums located directly underneath.

Like most of the slums the sector was filthy and poor. Barely constructed shacks decorated the streets as a means of 'homes'. Very few had honest to god houses that were made from more than loose materials found lying in the heaps of trash at the edge of the city. The office was fortunately among one of the few buildings that had a proper foundation and a real lock at the door to keep intruders out. The filth the covered the stoop and door did not find itself carried within the office.

Inside it was littered about with stacks of books, files, and research. Case notes, both old and new, were overflowing from the file cabinets. Yet despite all the papers lying about, it did not concern the owner from having several candles adorning the room to act as the source of light. Electricity was a luxury among those in the slums and it was one he did not currently have given the bill hadn't been paid in two months. A large mahogany desk resided in the back of the room, it too carrying the weight of pages in the form of books and newspapers. There were only two other rooms connected to the office: the door behind the desk that lead to his small bedroom that was just larger than a closet and the cellar below was reserved for special research and practices (it was to remain locked at all times).

He was just shy of thirty years old. His hair only slightly kept but threatening to rebelliously spike slightly from its groomed state. Crimson hues remained ever shifting between a news article and one of many pages in his research as though he were attempting to connect some sort of link between the two. Unlike the rest of the slums, he was dressed in a way where he could pass as a person from The Plate. A black tailored suit with the only indication of his current lodgings being the wear upon the elbows and knees where the material was on the edge of threadbare.

The bell above his door had long since lost the clapper so in place of the small chime it would typically make when the door brushed upon the bell, it merely released a dull _thud_ as the door struck the obstacle. The small resistance of the door was met with a pair of curious eyes that lifted up to eye what they had struck for a brief moment before the individual stepped inside.

It was a woman; one he found was undeniably attractive if you considered the standards in the slums. Long dark hair fell pass her shoulders. Her dark clothing: simple black jeans and a white shirt covered mostly by the dark vest she wore over it was a small change to the typical worn rags of the people in the slums. He stood from his seat as she approached and gestured to the worn leather seat situated in front of his desk that didn't match anything else in the office.

She remained on her feet for a moment as she produced a card and read it aloud: "Finds Lost People, items, and trinkets. Knowledgeable of the Occult, the Paranormal, Supernatural, Monsters, Ghosts, and Demons. Private Investigator: Vincent Valentine." Wine colored eyes drifted off the card to stare for a moment longer at the quiet man behind the desk. She held up the card, "Is this a joke? Or do you honestly do this kind of stuff?"

"…Most people tell me I don't have a sense of humor." Vincent responded before he took a seat and once again gestured to the seat in front of him.

The woman before him seemed to find a small amount of amusement from his statement and took the seat. "Well, whoever wrote your tagline needs to be fired. Sounds ridiculous."

"I wrote it."

"I assumed as much." She took a moment to look around the cluttered office and lack of other people as though to emphasize her point. "Do you get a lot of people with cases like that?"

"Most people want me to find a lost person. Occasionally a cat." It would probably be a funny statement if it weren't true. "Unfortunately, the cases that seemed to be supernatural have all proven to be anything but."

The woman nodded her head with his explanation. It wasn't the first time he's had to explain himself to a new potential client. He assumed they wanted to know whether or not he was crazy before they hired him. His hands clasped together on his desk and he stared right back at her without adding anything more to the conversation. He tended to wait for his visitors to lead the conversation rather than waste the breath to ask them what they needed of him. Eventually they would simply come out and say it when they were ready to.

"…Are monsters real?"

"Some would have us believe they are not."

"Hmm,"

One eyebrow lifted slightly as the woman glanced down at the card in her hand once more as she chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. Vincent's gaze drifted off to the side and silently tried to will her to get the conversation going. He didn't care for prolonged meetings when it should just be a simple offer for work. "…I think there might be one living in my area." Vincent returned his gaze to the woman in front of him. He straightened up slightly in his seat to and gave her his full attention; however he didn't press for more information. He didn't feel the need to – not yet. "The occasional thug trying to break into my bar I can handle; however, the past few weeks I've felt like there's something else out there. I haven't seen anything but occasionally I think I hear something."

Vincent lifted a brow at her as though to silently ask her 'what?'. It seemed to get the question across because she managed to understand it. She shook her head, "I don't know exactly. At first I thought it was an animal but… I don't know, have you ever felt like something or _someone_ was whispering something but you're not hearing it with your ears?"

"….."

Lithe fingers brushed through dark locks of hair as the woman seemed to grow momentarily stressed over what she was talking about. "Or maybe the atmosphere of the slums is finally getting to me and I'm just imagining things." She laughed disheartened for a moment, "I don't even know how much it'd cost to hire you to look into it. I don't have that much money. I barely make anything with my bar."

"I'll take the case."

"But…how much will it cost me?" she seemed slightly surprised by his response.

He shook his head lightly, "We will discuss that after the case. It will be based on the work required to finish while keeping your allowance in mind."

She looked hesitant upon his response, "That doesn't sound like a good way to make a living." At that statement, Vincent made a pointed look at the room that surrounded her. She caught onto the silent response and flushed lightly in embarrassment. "What do you need to know?"

"Where is this taking place?"

"Oh, I live in my bar in Sector Seven: Seventh Heaven." She watched as he began jotting the information down into a notebook. "Um…when are you able to start, Mr. Valentine?"

"Immediately." He responded and glanced up at her when he finished writing the location, "What can you tell me of your experiences?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment as she considered what had been bothering her the last few weeks. "It happens once everyone in the sector seems to quiet down. Typically when the bar closes up. It's late. One of the last few things I do is take out the trash and recyclables out behind the bar." Her hands folded between her knees as she leaned forward and rocked slightly restless, "It's not every night, but occasionally I begin to feel like I'm being…watched? Getting inside and locking up all the doors doesn't change how I feel. Honestly, I feel like whatever was watching me is already inside somehow. I don't rest well on those nights. I hadn't felt that afraid of the dark since I was a little girl and normally the dark doesn't bother me. Just when that happens."

"Hmm, you live alone?"

She nodded once, "Occasionally I babysit for a friend. I'm kind of like her aunt. She's five. I haven't allowed her to spend the night in the past month though. Just doesn't feel safe." It was an ironic thing to claim that a place didn't feel safe in the slums. The general description of the slums as a whole was dangerous.

"I may require to be at your home during those hours. Will that bother you?"

She quickly shook her head, "Honestly? I would probably feel safer with someone there with me."

"It may take a few nights if there is no pattern to its appearance."

"That's fine. I have a spare bedroom if you need."

"…What time does the bar open?"

"Seven" The faintest twitch occurred at his lips. He should have guessed as much. Seventh Heaven in Sector Seven, opens at seven. "There's no real closing time. Basically when the last customer is out. Could be early, could be late."

Vincent lowered his head his head slightly in thought. The fact that there was no consistent closing time meant that whatever was stalking the young woman had no real pattern. Not even a usual witching hour. "Very well, I shall arrive tonight after the bar opens." He stood from his desk and offered out his hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Valentine." She stood as well and accepted his hand in a shake, "I'm Tifa Lockhart, by the way and I'll make you a drink on the house when you arrive." He simply nodded his head in response before releasing her hand. Tifa headed back toward the door, "See you tonight." She called over her shoulder.

"…."

She was gone and he was left alone with nothing more than candlelight, papers, and a new case. He took a seat in his chair and looked over his notes once more. A new case was just what he needed. It had been quite some time since someone had come to grace him with their presence and promise of work. Vincent Valentine was on the case.


	2. First Impressions

Hello hello! Hope everyone's interest has been caught. Won't say much for now, but here is the second chapter.

 _Chapter Two: First Impressions_

The Slums that existed beneath the plates of Midgar was a whole different reality that people lived in compared to those who actually look up and see the sky. The air was stale with a permanent foul stench in the air that people had long since grown accustomed to. The lighting was artificial and wholly dependent upon the power running through the sector. One of the most dangerous things in the slums were power outages because if you didn't have any supplies to shed some light then you were left in darkness. There were a great number of snakes and ruffians that found power outages as a blessing because they could attack households before slipping into darkness with their claim. Fortunately sector-wide power outages were rare and Vincent had only encountered two of them in the last five years in his neighborhood.

Because depression and stress were irregularly high in the Slums compared to anywhere else in the world, mental health was deteriorated, and this caused locals to be stricken with paranoia. They begin to believe they are seeing, hearing, or experiencing something unexplainable or otherworldly. Most of his clients were individuals afflicted with such extreme paranoia that he merely needed to scope out their household to insure them that there was not something, in fact, living under their floor boards or behind their walls. There were no ghosts that needed to be chased away or boogeyman out to get them.

In the years he's had his practice opened, he had never gotten a case with legitimate paranormal activity. He had gotten plenty of individuals who actually had other people stalking their homes for one reason or another and Vincent took care of those as well. He had one case that involved a household's dead cat returning to them and they weren't sure what to do with it. The fact of the matter was that it was merely another cat with the same markings as their previous cat that had gotten friendly with their child. He almost shot the cat on principal for wasting his time and because of the headache he developed when the parents continually refused to believe his claims that it was just another cat.

He hadn't had a case in a good stretch and the one he had gotten earlier today was perfect timing. His reserves on Gil were almost tapped out so he was desperate for a case. The only problem was that he needed to wait for all the costumers at the bar to disappear. Which is where he found himself sitting. The Slums didn't have a whole lot of Gil to pass around but it would seem that people weren't so desperate that they wouldn't waste their money on a drink. Despite most businesses having trouble getting costumers through the door, the Seventh Heaven in Sector Seven Slums was somewhat lively. It was a small place with just under a dozen small tables assorted across the establishment and two booths; however, all the tables were filled and he was fortunate enough to occupy the available booth. The bar counter was packed.

He checked his watch. He had arrived at just pass midnight because he thought the place was be dwindling down from whatever small amount of business they had. This was not the case and it would seem that it would be quite some time before the patrons left on their own. He sighed lightly to himself as he made himself comfortable before he spread his notes across the table in the booth. His gaze lingered across the bar and it did not get pass him that the entirety of the patrons in the bar were all male. His client seemed to own the business as well as run it completely on her own by the look of things. He didn't seem any other individual working the tables nor mixing the drinks. He imagined running things on this scale could be exhausting; yet, from his spot he noticed that his client continued to sport a smile for each of her patrons and seemed to easily speak to them all.

Vincent felt his brow arch slightly as he contemplated whether the woman's physique had of an effect on her business than her actual drinks. She certainly had the shape and pleasantness that would warrant the attention from the plentiful supply of male gaze in the room. He shook his head. It would be quite sometime before he could look into anything so he might as well catch up on the notes from needed to document.

So focused in his work, as he always seemed to do, he hadn't even noticed that his presence had finally been noticed by Tifa Lockhart. It wasn't until she stood beside the booth and deposited a glass of red wine upon the table that his attention was broken. "On the house, Mr. Valentine."

His gaze drifted from notes to the wine seated on the table. His brow quirked slightly at the sight of the red wine. He wasn't much of a drinker; especially because that involved precious Gil that no one could really waste too much on such things but when he did drink it was something akin to what was in front of him. "Hmm…How'd you guess?"

"I've been doing this for years. Guess you could say I have uncanny instincts of what people are going to order. It helps keep me ahead of the rush. I pegged you for a red wine drinker from your business card alone."

"Really…" He sounded doubtful.

"Yep."

Vincent wasn't convinced but he wasn't going to argue the point either. His gaze shifted back to the busy bar, "…Quite the thriving business you have going on."

Tifa turned her gaze toward the rest of the bar. People conversed amongst themselves but there always seemed to be an occasional glance in her direction to track her location. She let out a huff of air, blowing hair out of her face in the process, "It gets tiring but it's good Gil. But between you and me, I could do without the pickup lines."

"I did notice a substantial lack of females at the bar."

"A lot of them are regulars and a lot of them think business hours is the perfect time to try and ask me out on a date."

"Hmm… you are not concerned working alone here?"

"I can take care of myself." Her confidence was odd, if not refreshing, "I've probably thrown everyone in this room out of my bar at least once. They know not to mess with me."

"Ah, well, I hope to remain the oddity in that regard."

"Just don't get handsy with me and you'll be fine." She joked lightly. Vincent merely stared back in response. She brushed a hand through her hair, "Well, I've got to get back to work. I'll try to get everyone out of the bar in the next hour."

He nodded. When she started to walk away he called out, "Ms. Lockhart."

"Call me Tifa."

Vincent paused with his lips pursed together lightly, "Ms. Lockhart, do you think that there is a possibility that the very thing you believe is around and making believe you're being watched is in part because one of these men are, in fact, watching you while you close up?"

She let the question hand in the air. Her hands settled on her waist and her eyes closed while she seemed to contemplate the question fully. After a moment she shook her head. "I know that it would be normal for someone in my position to get paranoid about that…but…it's not that. I can't explain it to well but I would rather deal with one of these guys stalking me then being afraid of something I don't know is out there." She paused before she gave an apologetic smile, "I don't think I'm making much sense."

"You make perfect sense." He assured her before he turned his gaze back to the documents before him. "Thank you for the wine. Come get me when you begin closing up."

"Will do."

For the next forty-five minutes Vincent remained rooted in his booth and simply observed the woman work the establishment. He kept his gaze shifting from each and every individual in the bar in an attempt to convince himself that her worries were one of the patrons despite her claims. True to her word, an hour passed and people were being ushered out of the bar much to the groans and complaints to her customers. She managed to battle off their complaints with a smile that never seemed to tire and the reassurance that she would be open the following evening on time, at seven. He didn't move like the rest of them and when she approached him he simply waved her off and told her to continue as normal as he observed.

Her routine was fairly simple. She stacked chairs on top of the few tables that she actually had before she began to sweep up the floor. He stood by and watched both her and the surroundings for any sort of sign. He followed her into each room even if she disappeared for just a moment to grab a mop to follow up her sweep. While he was aware that she claimed not to be bothered until she took the trash out in the evening, he wanted to cover all grounds. She managed to work undisturbed by his presence. She must have cued into the fact that he wasn't much of a talker either because she didn't try to strike up conversation with him either.

He stayed out of her way and continued to move further away from her as she backed up with her mopping until they were both standing at the door way to the kitchen and behind the bar counter. It must have been her cut off point because she gave a final huff, brushed a few strands of hair back from her face as she finished the task. Vincent noted she looked exhausted – likely a tiring endeavor to do nightly after working as hard as she did. He noted that it would also cause mental fatigue which may be reason for her paranoia. Other than that simple note he hadn't seen or heard anything worthy of concern. She got rid of the bucket and mop before she gathered up a few trash bags that had been created throughout the night.

She paused to look in his direction and Vincent merely raised an expectant eyebrow at her as he waited for her to proceed. For the first time throughout her process she looked hesitant to continue but she took a breath to gather her nerve and move toward the back door. Vincent followed a few steps behind her and they soon stepped out into the night air. It was a particular humid night – the kind that made it feel as though the air stuck to your skin along with the foul aroma of the slums' scent that always lingered. He first eyed the entire area as Tifa moved toward a small shed that she kept her trash to keep the animals out of it. He saw nothing of particular interest. He took a moment to look at his watch before he headed toward the bartender as she unlocked her shed.

When he reached her he stood just to the side of the small structure as she deposited the trash into cans and waited until she had the shed locked up once more before he finally spoke. "How do you feel?" He questioned.

The brunette looked thoughtful for a moment before she looked around the area. After a few moments more her gaze returned to his and he offered him a shrug, "Honestly? I feel…fine. I don't feel like there's something out there tonight."

Vincent hummed thoughtfully for a moment, "What's different tonight than normal?"

"Well, I closed the bar a little sooner then I would have with how busy it was. But… I don't have a set time I close. I have closed it sooner when business is dry."

"Anything else?"

"Well… you're here."

"…"

"I don't mean that I feel safer with someone else here with me. I've been doing this for a long time now. Working alone has never bothered me. So maybe the fact that you're here is keeping away whatever is normally out there."

"…A theory, but not likely. The supernatural do not care whether you are alone or not."

At this Tifa tilted her head slightly, "Have you had an experience like mine?"

"I cannot say because I do not know what your experience is. Most everyone who comes to me with a case simply suffers from a paranoia, a lot weren't preexisting. They grow into them."

"Okay… so you think that's my case?"

"It's a distinct possibility. I have not seen anything of note out of place."

"It's been just one night."

"Generally that's all the time I need."

"So what do you suggest I do?"

"Hire a coworker or start dating someone so you have someone here."

She looked moderately annoyed at both suggestions. "I hired you for a different opinion then what everyone else assumes my problem is."

"When a majority rules against your beliefs, often times the fault lies in your belief."

Fists rested upon her hips as she leveled him with a what he could assume was a glare. She didn't seem like the type that often had reason to glare so it was probably the best she could muster after a tiring evening. "Do you have _any_ other suggestions outside of those two?"

Vincent gave her a blank stare, "…Get a dog."

The woman rolled her eyes and huffed out in annoyance, her breathe misting peculiarly in what was a humid evening only minutes ago. He didn't say anything and simply stayed where he was standing and watched as she disappeared back inside from the door they had exited from. Vincent glanced around the area for a moment and when he felt as though there wasn't a chance of anyone seeing him, he lifted a hand up to his mouth and blew softly into it. Nothing. He eyed the back of the bar once more.

Perhaps further observation was called for but he will have to do it on his own time.


	3. Sector Four Mechanical Horror

_Chapter Three: Sector Four Mechanical Horror_

" _Seven Heaven in Sector Seven – sorry but we are already closed right-"_

" _Ms. Lockhart"_

" _Uh, hello? Who is this?"_

" _Vincent Valentine."_

" _Mr. Valentine? It's late. Is something wrong? Why are you calling?"_

" _I merely wish to follow up. Has anything happened since yesterday?_

" _I thought you decided I simply needed a dog?"_

"… _Would I be correct in assuming that everything has been normal tonight?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Very well." He hung up._

" _Seven Heaven in Sector-"_

" _Ms. Lockhart."_

" _Mr. Valentine? You're calling again?"_

" _Merely following up. Has anything changed from yesterday?"_

" _How do you even know I'm closed yet? I don't have a set schedule."_

"… _All is fine then."_

" _Well, yeah."_

 _He hung up._

" _Hello Mr. Valentine."_

"… _How did you know it was me?"_

" _A hunch. You called the last two nights in a row right after I finished closing up."_

" _Hmm…"_

" _Also I saved your number after the last time. How long do you typically 'follow up' with you clients?"_

" _Until I'm satisfied with the case."_

" _Hmm, you know I get charged on this phone by the minute."_

"… _ah, I apologize. I will refrain from-"_

" _Relax. I was joking."_

"… _Oh."_

 _She laughed lightly, "Not one for jokes, are you?"_

"… _Depends on whether they're humorous or not."_

" _Oh? And where did that joke fall on your scale?"_

" _One."_

" _Out of..?"_

"… _hundred."_

 _She laughed once more, "Well, I'll have to work on some material for these follow-ups then."_

" _That is not necessary. Can I assume everything is fine?"_

" _Not at all." This immediately caught his interest, "You wouldn't believe the pervert that was in tonight. I swear I had never met a more arrogant jerk in my life. One of the first men who comes to the place that has clothing that would make you think he live up on the plate but he's dressed like a slob. And his manners aren't much better than a pig."_

 _And his interest had dropped once more, "…Then nothing unusual has hap-"_

" _You would think that man had never heard the word 'no' before. I swear I had to basically kick his ass to get him out of the bar. And he laughed the entire time. Laughed! Even when his nose was bleeding he seemed to think it was some sort of joke!" She continued on for another ten minutes before Vincent finally found a lapse in her story before he could make a hasty escape from the call."_

His nights continued with a new routine for the next two weeks. He would stake out the bar from outside all hours of operation so he wouldn't miss it closing. He would watch as the bartender would close up the shop and then proceed to go about her nightly routine. The end of the routine would involve her getting rid of the trash that had accumulated by the end of the night and each time she strode out of the building and into the shed with purpose and without hesitation. She didn't appear to be bothered by the fact that she was alone nor did she seem to be bothered by any sort of monsters hidden in the night.

He had hoped his lack of presence by her side would spring forth some new result then when he was there. If there was something haunting her then the opportunity for it to make itself known would be when she was alone rather than him following her around. Of course, he could only do a visual inspection of everything that happened on the outside of the bar; however, so to compromise he called her the moment she finished throwing away her garbage. Thirteen phone calls, each one slowly growing in length every time he called. After the first night she complained about a pervert, the following calls she always had something new to complain about or a story to tell.

All Vincent wanted was confirmation that there was nothing unusual going on inside the bar. She seemed to know this because she wouldn't give him the confirmation he needed until she got whatever complaint she needed to vent out of her system. It was a weary process; especially for a man who typically didn't care for conversations in general, much less to listen to someone else's complaints about their work.

After last night he decided that there was nothing to the case and decided to end his stakeout nightly sessions. It was just another dead end case and there were other cases to be made.

It was precisely why he was currently in Sector Four Slums in the middle of the night. Another case had fallen into his lap and payment had already been deposited into his account. Apparently it was 'absolutely imperative that he got there immediately' with very little to go on outside of a name and address, Vincent had ventured to the sector.

Sector Four was similar to Sector Seven slums in that it had the same shabby little huts that the rest of them had. The only difference was that a bulk of discarded machinery and steel waste from the Plate was relocated to the slums of Sector Four. The old rusted machinery was the result of repairs on various reactors across the large city. ShinRa Inc. made sure the general public outside of the city didn't get to see the results of their technological advancements: polluted infertile soils and dangerous radiation. Sector Four slums had the worst of it and western end of the sector was simply quarantined off. That didn't stop people from scavenging through the dangerous material in the hopes of finding something they could sell and make an easy Gil.

Fortunately the location he was requested in was in the Southern end of the Sector Four Slums and the directions he was given lead him to a small building a little better maintained then the rest. The exterior had used recycled steel, likely from the dumping area, to create what passed as a home in the slums these days. Anyone who lived on the Plate would likely question whether it was safe to enter the small home or if they would expose themselves to some sort of radiation from the reactors it likely came from.

Vincent had no such concern so he simply stood at the door and knocked.

"Oh! Uh…Um… Door is opened!"

He waited a moment before he finally let himself through the door. There was a telltale buzz from electricity cycling through poorly insulated wiring. Vincent surmised it was likely from the strings of wire he saw daisy-chaining from one incandescent light bulb to another that hung from the ceiling about to light up the home; although, he wouldn't really call it much of a home. It looked more like something out of Professor Frankenstein's laboratory. Electrical circuits spanned across all the walls and connected to one monitor to another. Panels filled with far too many gadgets and buttons for him to be comfortable touching took up space. A worktable in the middle of the room had a pile of computer components disembodied from the shell that held it all together.

The place was much like his own office: a mess. A controlled chaotic mess that only the owner could make heads or tails out of. He looked down at the hand he used to open the front door and found it slightly smudged with oil or grease… possibly both. On the other side of the small electrical nightmare a constant tapping broke through the buzz of electricity as the owner was hunched over a computer that was years passed the end of it's lifespan.

A woman, he knew based off the voice more so than the appearance of the back of her head, sat. Her hair was thrown up in a short messy ponytail that was held in place by what looked like a piece of red wire. "Uh, one more minute. Sorry, sorry. Hold tight." She commented. She hadn't even turned around to look at him in favor of keeping her gaze straight on the glow of the monitor. For all she knew, he could have just been some psychopath that she had invited in that was holding a knife to stab into her back. He glanced back at the worktable, "And don't touch anything." She added as though it were a sudden after thought.

He looked back down to his hand. The thought to touch anything had long since disappeared before she even made the comment. "Ah ha, yes. There we go." He glanced back up toward the woman. She was still looking at the computer, "Oh wait… but if I do that then… that's no good. Ugh." Her head fell down upon the keyboard she was working on.

Vincent looked back toward the door he entered from and contemplated whether or not he should just leave. The urgency that the message he had gotten didn't stack up with this woman's disregard to his presence. It was possible that he had gotten the wrong place.

Her head lifted up and the woman turned around in a caster-less computer chair before she hopped onto her feet. Brown orbs blinked in surprise as they stared in his direction. She was a rather short woman. Her baggy clothes hid any sort of feminine physique if she had any at all. Her face was smudged with grease on the right side. "Who are you?"

"Vincent Valentine."

"Uh… who?" She followed it up with something muttered under her breath that he barely made out to be along the lines of, 'oh goddess, why?'

"Vincent Valentine." He repeated again.

"Yeah, heard that already." Now she seemed slightly annoyed with him, "But who are you? Like… what are you _doing_ here?"

Vincent frowned slightly and pulled out the small note scribbled with the envelope he Gil he had found slid under his front door. He had definitely followed the directions correctly. Did the person who hired him possibly write it down wrong? He held the note up in response.

She crossed the room to held her hand out for him to place the note down into it. Once the piece of paper was in her hand, brown hues darted back and forth across the page. When she finished reading the note, her eyes closed with a groan before she muttered, "I'm going to kill him."

"You did not hire me."

"Of course not. It was that idiot partner of mine. He's such a… ugh." She turned around on her as she tore the page up, "Can't believe he actually tried to… it's not like I'm even interested in that kind of thing… thought he was kidding… kill him." Vincent wasn't sure if he was better off knowing exactly what was going on. Still, he was paid for something.

"…Excuse me…"

She whirled back around and her eyes widened slightly, "You're still here. Oh, of course you are. Sorry, I can go off on a tangent sometimes. People complain I ramble sometimes."

"…I see." He really _did_ see. He was also beginning to believe he was part of some sort of practical joke… one he was paid to participate unknowingly in. "Where is your partner..?"

"Oh well, if he hired you, then he most certainly isn't coming back soon." Vincent felt his jaw set and he realized he should probably rework his business card to mention he was not hirable as some sort of…escort. "I didn't think he was serious about it. You can never tell with him. I keep telling him not to worry about it but he claims he's worried about me because I'm always in here or off scavenging. But honestly-"

"…I should go."

"-he's just afraid for no reason."

"Pardon?"

"What? You want to leave?"

Vincent felt like he was going to have a headache soon. "Afraid?"

"Me? No."

"No, your partner."

"Him? Yes. He's paranoid." She waved him off.

"…over?"

"He keeps claiming he seeing things around outside. Also by the quarantine area. I think he's just trying to get out of work."

"What things?"

"Well…Uh, I don't know. He wasn't specific. Hmm, or did he say he wasn't sure what he saw? I mean, if he doesn't know what he saw or can't explain it, then he's probably just making stuff up."

"Miss…"

"Jessie." She offered up.

Vincent seemed to ignore the name, "If your partner-"

"Biggs."

He continued, "If he is seeing unexplainable things, that is my specialty. Not everything has an explanation."

"Right, ghosts and stuff, right? That's what you do? He mentioned he found a…ghost doctor or something and was going to hire him. I didn't think he was _serious_. Then again, he will do just about anything if it saves him from having to lift a finger."

"Well, I'm already hired. I'll have to look into the claims."

"Uh, don't know anything myself. Biggs says I shut off from the rest of the world when I'm working so I never noticed anything strange or unusual. But, I'll show you around outside and where we typically scavenge."

"That would be agreeable."

"Great, let me put some shoes on first."

First couldn't stop himself from looking down at her feet. Sure enough, her feet were covered in a pair of grey socks; each sock sported a whole where her large toe stuck out of each one. It took her a minute to put on a pair of weathered boots before the pair was stepping outside of the place. Jessie paused a moment when they first stepped outside. "Hmm, by the way, what time is it?"

"It is half pass nine."

"Geez, that early?"

"…It's evening."

"Oh. Well, evening, morning, doesn't make much difference in the slums, right?"

"You were going to show me around..?"

"Right, sorry. I get distracted. Feel free to tell me to press on. Otherwise I'm liable to just stand here and –"

"Press on."

"Right, this way."

He suddenly hated the fact that he was already paid for this.


	4. The Glow and the Eerie

_Chapter Four: The Glow and the Eerie_

Nestled between steel half rusted away and a wooden beam that looked ready to ignite if stared at improperly, the strange woman was scavenging off a motherboard from an dinged up control panel. Around them was a series of twisted steel bowing before the very plate it had once been a part of that had long been removed from their place for upgrades. It was trash left to rot out of the common view of those in the upper world. The sharp jagged edges of rusted steel only further complimented the lifestyle the slums put you through as it constantly tried to find a new way to cut you down.

Blocked off by a makeshift barricade that had been cobbled together by sheet metal and plywood, the quarantined area was a place people in Sector Four tended to avoid. The aged yellow warning sign that had fresh lettering to spell out "Radiation" tended to be enough to ward off people. When Vincent had pointed out the sign he had been informed that the barricade and the sign itself, were both things that Jessie and her partner had put up in order to chase off other scavengers. Sometimes it worked and other times people still took the risk. When you lived in the slums you didn't have much to lose so they took their chances with exposure.

Nothing around her facility had triggered any warning bells. After an hour of looking at the location around her place, Vincent suggested they head to their scavenging site. They'd already been there an hour and Jessie had almost immediately started digging around the giant heap of steel in order to find hidden treasures that any engineer would love to get their hands on.

He watched as she remained squatted on the ground armed with a flathead screwdriver and determination as she pried off a casing that was held in place by an age of rust. Heavy bags under the eyes were sign enough that the woman didn't sleep much and by her own words admitted that she spent countless hours tinkering away. A workaholic in every right but something he could not comment on for he too was in a similar standing in his career.

He circled the perimeter of the area at first; checked for any signs, warnings, or cold spots that might lead him to believe that there truly was something supernatural in metal graveyard. That had been nearly an hour ago and now he simply remained at the foot of the metal mountain and eyed it. The pile reached higher than any of the homes in the area; having compiled a good twenty years or more of dumping. The metal mountain could be almost halfway up to the plate if he were to judge. The top of I would give a good vantage point for someone who might be lost and needed to regain his or her bearings.

"I never understood how ShinRa could throw away half the stuff that I find here. It all still perfectly usable." Jessie stated as she continued to scavenge. Vincent didn't respond but gave her his attention. "But I suppose if they didn't, I wouldn't have much to claim for myself."

"Another man's trash is another man's treasure." Vincent responded easily.

"Exactly. Still. Such a waste. If they maintained their stuff, I bet less than half of this stuff wouldn't be crowding up the slums. I believe they're under the false impression that it's cheaper to replace than just maintain all this stuff."

Vincent shook his head lightly before he tore his gaze from the working woman and directed it back to the scrap yard. He blinked confused when he thought he had seen something fifteen feet up the mountain. Jessie continued to yammer on but he had long since been disengaged from the conversation and his focus had been drawn elsewhere. He waited patiently with his eyes trained along the pile of garbage.

He saw it again. The faintest of movements. A slight distortion or a shadow. He couldn't be certain. It was something. But it was gone as quickly as it had existed. The faintest feeling of excitement brushed lightly over him at the idea that something was there. He returned his gaze back to Jessie.

"-came running back with this piece of trash that even I couldn't use. I swear, Biggs doesn't-"

He started to climb up the mountain of steel toward his target. Everything was loose. Sure footing was something difficult to come by. His feet caved sheet metal wherever he came upon them but it was better than his foot going through the rusted steel and potentially slicing his leg open. Halfway up his climb his endeavors drew the attention of Jessie below. "Hey! Be careful! It's not really safe to climb." Contrary to her own words, she started to climb up after him.

His pace was slow given the structure he was climbing, but he eventually paused in his ascent long enough for Jessie to catch up while he waited until he could catch a glimpse at what he was after. "What ya doing climbing up this? You know, one misstep could send hundreds of pounds of steel to come crashing down on top of you and then-"

He reached out and grabbed her shoulder to silence her. He concentrated as his eyes flicked back and forth in search of it again. "…There." He pointed before he started to climb up once more. Jessie followed suit and a couple of minutes later, the pair found them a good twenty feet up the mountain of steel. There was a large steel hatch, dented outward, that rested on the surface. It had been added to the pile but now it stood in Vincent's way. "Please take a few steps back." He warned her before he reached down and grabbed the edge of it. He heaved it up and out of the way. Unfortunately, out of the way meant it tumbled down the side of the trash heap and made all manner of noise on the descent.

He suppose he would live with the short amount of noise so long as the hatch hadn't triggered some sort of garbage landslide. His spoils became apparent as subtle green light emitted from the nook the discarded hatch had been covering up. Vincent knew what it was immediately.

"What is that…?" Jessie stated when she saw his face being washed with a green eerie glow. She started to approach to get a peek inside.

"Do not move!" Vincent stated quickly with a raised hand to stop her. She froze in her tracks. Vincent returned his gaze back into the hole. There wasn't much, but…"How long have you been collecting salvage from this area?"

"Uh… a little over two years I think? Biggs does most of it. Why?"

"There's Mako underneath here."

"Wh-what? But…there shouldn't be. If there is, we need to get off this now."

Vincent stood up from glanced at the mountain they had started to climb. His gaze turned back to the ground below then back to all the twisted steel that jutted out from the pile of discarded. Mako radiation was a real danger for people. It caused a number of illnesses. "…This may be one of the original Reactors that ShinRa built when they first started. It stands to reason that the slums were once grounds they used to test the construction. The plate was said to have been built once they succeeded in processing Mako Energy."

Jessie's face immediately began to pale, "But if there's a broken reactor under all this…that means this place is _really_ contaminated. And my place! Everything there will have been exposed!"

"To a lower degree, yes. But given how much you have in there, even a miniscule amount on one piece, multiplied by all the other salvage you have in one concentrated place will not have good long term effects."

She was already making her way back down the salvage mountain. Vincent turned his gaze back to the Mako and remained there. "Mr. Valentine! You need to get away from that. You're exposing yourself far worse than I have being so close!" She warned when she noticed he hadn't been following her.

Vincent didn't bother arguing the point but started to head back down as well. When he reached the bottom, Jessie was wiping her hands frantically on her trousers as though she hoped that she could wipe any and all exposure she had just touched while salvaging off.

"It is likely that your partner was not lying when he was telling you that he was seeing or hearing things." He told her.

"Biggs? What do you mean?"

"If he is the one primarily taking the trips out here to salvage, he has likely been exposed to a higher degree. A common occurrence to Mako Poisoning is hallucinations. "

"Oh Gaia…"

"It would be wise if you take him to a doctor for treatment. I would advise that you get yourself treated as well."

"What about you?"

"Yes of course."

She started tugging at her hair nervously. "There's so much to be done. Everything needs to be taken out. We're going to have to start over. We're going to have to find salvage elsewhere."

Vincent pulled out his phone and checked the time. It was almost two-thirty in the morning. He sighed. Another case that came up short. This was the first night in a couple of weeks that he didn't spend staking out Seventh Heaven. It was the first night since he decided that case was also a wild goose chase. He put his phone away with a shake of his head. Well, he supposed he couldn't be too disappointed because he had gotten a job and solved it with relative ease. Most times it would take him a few days if not weeks to make headway on something.

"-and I'm going to have to find a doctor that will take us both. If I wasn't so engrossed in my work I would have noticed the signs. Stupid. Stupid. – Oh! Mr. Valentine, I believe your phone is ringing..?"

Vincent snapped out of his reverie upon hearing his name. Sure enough, his phone was going off. He pulled it back out of his pocket, "Excuse me." He told her before he flipped it open, "…Vincent Valentine speaking."

"Vincent?" The voice on the other end whispered back.

His brows drew together in question, "…Miss Lockheart? Why are you whispering."

"You, you didn't call." She whispered back. He had the distinct impression that she sounded afraid at the moment.

"Ms. Lockheart, is there something wrong?"

"It's here. It's here Vincent. It's in my house."

"What is?"

"It!" Her whisper came out in a hiss. "It followed me in. I don't know what to do. It's worse than ever, I need help."

"I'm on another case right now…"

"I think it's looking for me. I can hear…no, I can feel it. It's here, please. I'll pay whatever you want just come here. Please!"

Vincent drew the phone away from his ear and turned his attention back to Jessie, "…There's an emergency with another client."

She waved him off, "No worries. I'm…good? Yeah. Good. I'm good. I'm going to find Biggs and drag his butt to the nearest doctors. Thanks Mr. Valentine."

He returned his attention back to the phone, "Miss Lockheart, I'm on my way." He didn't receive a response, "…Miss Lockheart?" He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it. The call was still connected. He brought it back to his ear, "….Tifa?" He wasn't sure exactly what it was that responded. It wasn't Tifa. It wasn't the sounds of a frightened woman sobbing in the background. Nor was it the sounds of a person hyperventilating in the background out of fear. No… the response he got was eerier.

It was like nails on a chalkboard.


End file.
